Friday, January 13, 2006


Last night there was a mist. Pallid and chill
The yellow moon-blue clove the thickening sky,
And all night long a gradual wind crept by,
And froze the fog, and with minutest skill
Fringed it and forked it, adding bead to bead,
In spears, and feathery tufts, and delicate hems
Round windward trunks, and all the topmost stems,
And every bush, and every golden weed;
And now upon the meadows silvered through
And forests frosted to their farthest pines--
A last faint gleam upon the misty blue--
The magic of the morning falls and shines,
A creamy splendour on a dim white world,
Broidered with violet, crystalled and impearled.
--- Archibald Lampman


Blogger mon/nom/es/Ed said...

I have enjoyed reading your journal. I find it interesting to read about other lives and especially seniors. I am new to the internet (78 Years Old) and have set up a Blog with my son. He helps post my stories which are about my childhood and latter life. I write at a Memoirs class. Please take a look at
Would you mind if I linked to your site and added you to my Notify List?


7:48 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home